


Object Permanence

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Finger Sucking, Group Sex, M/M, Mann Train, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slut Scout, Submission, Thumb-sucking, Train Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scout convinces the team to run a train on him, because he wants to get screwed and used and loves that kind of thing.  They acquiesce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Object Permanence

“You want this, huh? You want this sweet ass?”  
Bent over the rec room table, legs spread, fingers deep in his own anus, Scout looked back over his shoulder at the eight naked men lined up, eyeing him hungrily. The thrill of such desire, such wanting and lust upon their features made the young mercenary's stomach flutter, made him light headed as he worked to stretch himself out. He wanted this, needed this. Eight men, all older than him, all eager to take him and please him and use him for their own pleasure. Eight men, hungry for his tight ass, eager to pentrate him one after another. Eight men, predatory and needful, eager to fill him until he overflowed.

He felt like he was already overflowing; his head swam with chemicals, his body electric with excitement. It had taken a bit of persuasion, a bit of alcohol to grease the cogs, but he had convinced them all. He had made his intentions known, his desires laid out before them all, his body bared for their entertainment. And his. He wanted to be fucked, to be used, to be taken repeatedly by as many men as he could, to be there as a tool for their enjoyment, to be objectified.

First in line, of course, was Spy. The smug fucker had to be the first one to take a crack at him, not to suffer the indignity of sloppy seconds. The older man was his friend, to be sure, but the look of superiority, of dominance on the Frenchman's face sent a chill through Scout. It was a chill he quite liked. Sliding his fingers out, he watched as Spy pumped some lube from the big pump jar the runner had brought with him and slicked himself up. He was a little long, but not too thick. A good one to start on, Scout mused, hazarding a look back at the line behind. The queue was loose at best, each man craning to get a view, touching themselves slowly, working to keep erect and ready for their turn.

The young mercenary was broken from his observations as Spy took hold of his hip in one hand, grabbing his chin with the other. He tilted his chin enough to gain eye contact, and watching the young man's face, he pressed inward, sliding into Scout with an ease that betrayed the runner's sexual history. That face, almost pretty in its boyish charm, twisted in his hand. Eyes snapped closed, lips parted slightly as a groan escaped him, his brows furrowing and the blush on his cheeks spreading across his nose. He released Scout's jaw and grabbed his hips roughly. The smaller man's head dipped down, turning to face the wall as he braced himself. Spy grinned and began his task, snapping his hips at the end of each long, slow thrust, forcing gasps out of the lithe frame beneath him.

“You are no amateur,” Spy growled, bending forward over Scout's body, pinning him to the table. His pace quickened, the table rattling against the wall, his grip on the runner's slim hips tightening. Scout's groans, breathy and small, reverberated warmly off of the wall, filling both men's ears. The shuddering, shivering form below him grew warmer, a sheen of sweat forming on his back as Spy was now driving into him with force. A slim hand, normally so delicate and fine, grabbed the runner by his hair, what little there was to grab, and tugged hard, pulling Scout back, arching his back and pressing him against Spy's chest. He wrapped an arm around the smaller man's chest, holding him close, breathing in the scent of his sweat and his lust. Dimly, Scout made a note that he needed another haircut sometime soon. Driving in deep, Spy buried his face in the middle of Scout's back, his nose against the young man's spine as he came with a muffled groan.

Scout shuddered, groaning along with the rogue's release, the pulsing of the taller man's cock inside of him, pushing his seed into him, made his stomach flutter all over again. He clung to the table for stability as Spy released him and stepped back, pulling out. With a deep breath to center himself, the rogue slapped him playfully on one butt cheek, and wandered over to the couch to sit and observe.

There was no time to adjust or recover as Soldier stepped up, grabbing hold of Scout and pulling him up from his slump onto the table. Of course his two best friends would be first in line. Why wouldn't they? Scout would ponder any possible repercussions on their friendship later. Now, he was busy having his backside felt up by the gruff mid-westerner. He opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly silenced as Soldier entered him with little warning. What was going to be teasing came out as a nonsensical groan.

“If I'd have known this would stop your back-sass, I would've done this years ago, Private.”

“Augh, sir yes sir!”

Soldier wasted no time on trivialities such as letting Scout adjust, or manhandling him like Spy had. Instead, he went right to work, grabbing the runner's hips and pounding into him with abandon. The younger gripped the table like a lifeline, banging against the wall loudly with each intrusion. Soldier's constant, insistent ingress left Scout breathless, his whole body shaking with each stroke. His thighs twitched, the blinding pressure assaulting him wave after wave, those strong, rough hands on his hips squeezing tight.  
“Oh fuck,” the runner gasped, feeling his mouth go dry, his eyes cross a bit.

“That's oh fuck, SIR!” Soldier commanded, piercing the last of Scout's defenses, invading him as deep as he could go. The slap of flesh on flesh filled the room, harmonizing with the banging of the table, making Scout deaf with the blood pounding in his ears. The determined grunts of the older man drilling him were the barest background buzzing to the symphony of sensation his partner was enjoying.

Soldier buried himself deep into Scout, gripping his hips so tight the younger expected bruising, his shoulders slumping as his body went tense. A strained cry forced its way from the taller man, heralding his climax. Scout's body went slack when he stopped moving, letting himself enjoy the feeling of the older man spilling himself inside of him.

“Good,” Soldier puffed, pulling out and patting his friend on the back, “good job, Private.” He wandered aside and slumped to the floor against the couch, a few feet from where Spy sat.

Panting, Scout turned to see who his next partner would be, to find Pyro standing there, still wearing his mask, cock in hand. The youngest mercenary bit his lip and eyed up the shorter man, a lascivious grin spreading across his face. He could feel pressure in his gut, a winding, grinding feeling pulling him tight like a rubber band, slowly untwisting in between partners.

Pyro stepped up to Scout and tugged him from the table by his hips, motioning to the floor. The younger mercenary knelt, wrapping his lips around the shorter man's shaft unbidden, breathing in his musk as he tasted him hungrily. But this was a specific sort of arrangement, and Pyro wanted his turn the same as the others. Breath huffing through the mask, the stocky pyromaniac nudged Scout off of him, his hand shaking with loathing at having to end such an intense, amazing sensation. Scout's mouth was hot, his tongue just rough enough, yet silky soft. He sucked cock like a professional. Pyro had to wonder just how many times he'd done it. Kneeling down, he put both hands on the younger man's shoulders and pushed him over onto his back. Grabbing hold of those well-handled hips, he pulled him closer, and grabbed the lube from the table.

Scout pulled his legs up, allowing the older man access, watching him slick himself up. His eyes darted up to Pyro's mask, the empty, black, soulless lenses reflecting his own face. He could see the sweat and the blush across his features, his eyes half-open, his buck teeth peeking out below his upper lip as he panted. Pyro tugged Scout closer, into his lap, as he slid into the thinner man, a low moan rattling out of his gasmask.

A needy moan seeping out of him, Scout fell slack, his back arching up as Pyro filled him, leaning over him. Almost uncomfortably warm hands wandered his flesh, tracing muscle and sinew, stopping a moment to pinch a nipple, to tickle an armpit. One wide palm wrapped loosely around his neglected cock, calloused thumb rubbing slowly, gently over the tip of his head, brushing at the fluid beginning to leak out. He shivered, Pyro's slow, long strokes driving him into an impatient frenzy. He frowned and made to speak, to beg for more, when a thick thumb popped between his lips, pressing into his cheek a moment before caressing his tongue.

That rough digit tasted of sweat and his own pre-come, making the slimmer man take a deep breath, his head beginning to swim. His eyes closed, his lips wrapped eagerly around that thumb, and he began to lavish it with attention as if it were the cock he had tasted moments ago. His tongue cupped and stroked it, rolling along it in undulating waves. Scout's moans came through his nose, his breath shallow and fast as the shorter man began to pick up speed, groaning low as he watched that sweet mouth work. One hand slid up to the firestarter's shoulder, the other dropped to his own aching need, grabbing hold tightly and working himself.

Pyro wrapped his arm around Scout's waist, sliding it beneath the thinner man, anchoring himself to his eager little toy as he worked to gain leverage. Thrust after thrust, he gained more and more speed, that perfect tongue working him into a fever, his body ablaze with lust and hunger building higher and higher into the night sky, flames licking at the heavens as Scout licked at his flesh.

Scout pulled that thumb fully into his mouth, sucking hard as Pyro filled him up so hard, so fast. The thrill, the pressure, the bubbling intensity within him melted through his pelvis, slithering through him in trails of lava as his body went stock-still, his legs straight up into the air, hands clenching down on the shorter man's shoulders. Hot come shot across his belly and up to his chest, spilling out over his shaking hand. His insides fluttered, clenching and loosening in an urgent ripple around Pyro, dragging his orgasm out of him like a riptide. The firestarter doubled forward, pressing his forehead, his mask, to Scout's chest as he emptied into the whimpering runner, his whole body wobbling with the force of his release.

That rough thumb fell from Scout's mouth, Pyro pulling himself back up to his knees. He lifted the smaller man's hips a bit to exit his backside and crawled away to go flop down somewhere, insensate and satisfied, a splotch of the runner's come on his mask from pressing against him.

The room was silent save for the heaving breaths of those already sated, Scout's loudest of all as he lay there on the floor in a heap, come spattering his torso, his legs splayed open, his arms slack. His ass was slick with lube and the semen of three men. That heady thought alone had him feeling drunk and dazed.

“Scout?” Demoman asked, kneeling down between the runner's legs. He leaned over the smaller man, smiling at his bright red face, his messed-up hair, his loopy grin. “Ye alright, boyo? Ye still game fer more?”

Scout laughed what little he could, his chuckle coming more as short puffs of air. “You think that's all I got in me? Less 'n half 'a you fuckers?”  
That's what Demoman wanted to hear. Not waiting for more of an invitation than that, he quickly lubed up and snatched hold of Scout's nearly-boneless legs. Tugging them up, he grinned and decided to test just how flexible the athletic young man was. He pushed Scout's legs up further and further, until they were against his chest. Scout widened his legs, letting them cross as they bent, and the bomber just kept pressing further, until suddenly the younger man found his feet framing his face, one cool sole on each warm cheek. He grinned defiantly up at the Scotsman, and lifted his head. Demoman pressed onward, the runner's big toes touching the floor. Scout then rested his head upon them, his arches cupping the back of his head. He grinned wide, his breathing shallow in the awkward position, his eyebrow cocked in a challenge. The bomber rose to the occasion, releasing Scout's legs, which surprisingly held position easily. The boy was certainly flexible.

Pressing into the runner, Demoman groaned loudly. Unashamed, unabashed, he grunted with each thrust as he began, whispering his appreciation in his sloppy, boozy brogue. Scout became quickly aware of exactly how sexy, and exactly how tight he was to the older man's observation, compliments mumbled rapidly as that thick member stretched him wide.

Thighs and calves twitched and quivered, muscles pulled as far as they could go. Holding his feet behind his head, his bottom lay bared for the Scotsman to plunge as deep as he could manage. Balls slapping against his ass, Scout groaned at the blissful overstimulation, his spent, soft cock throbbing in the aftermath of his release and the hormones flooding him, telling him he should be hard and ready to go. His body could not acquiesce to readily. So he floundered there, adrift in a sea of sensation as soft lips kissed at his shoulders and neck, the taller man's warm, dark flesh pressed close against his own. Their bodies slid against each other, slick with sweat, sticky with Scout's come on their bellies.

He was big, no doubt. Larger than the three previous mercenaries, though not the largest Scout had taken. Certainly the biggest in a while. The runner licked his lips as he thought of that cock entering him, picturing what it must look like as he felt him slide in and out, slick with lube and come, the backs of his knees aching as he shivered. Demoman was in deep, so deep, overwhelming him with his presence as he mouthed at Scout's neck, gently nibbling where his shoulder met it, along the bulge of his trapezius. He kissed a line up to just behind and below his ear where his jaw met and latched on. His hot tongue snaked out to run a circle along his flesh, salve on the electric prickle of blood being drawn to the upper layers of his skin, the bomber sucking at his flesh, marking him. His hands ran up and down his slim hips loosely, worshiping at the feel of muscle and bone, skin and sweat and sinew.

It didn't take him long, deep in Scout, in those warm, wet depths of the smaller, younger man's body, to lose himself entirely. A near howl of a groan, a shuddering, wobbling trio of final thrusts milked him into that perfect little ass. Scout found the pressure atop him gone, those warm lips missing from his neck, as Demoman laboriously dragged himself to his feet, grabbing hold of one of the younger man's legs and helping out of the pretzel he'd been twisted into. Flopping limply to the floor, Scout grinned up at Demoman, making the older mercenary take a deep, lustful breath before he strode over to the couch. He flopped down next to Spy, close enough to make the Frenchman, now smoking calmly as he watched, uncomfortable enough to shoot him a withering look.

“Boy,” Scout heard the low, soft drawl of Engineer above him, too blasted to bother opening his eyes. “On yer belly.”

With assistance, he complied, only to have his arm grabbed roughly and pulled behind his back, a plastic cord of some sort wrapping tightly around his wrist. His other arm was quickly seized and crossed against the other, more cord looping around him until both wrists were bound together tightly with extension cord, held behind his back. His chest pressed into the floor, his face to one side, looking back to see that crooked grin Engineer wore when he was up to something terrifying. Scout fancied this might count as one of those somethings.

“Now I reckon the Spy's right, inn't he?” Scout could hear some squishing behind him. Then suddenly one palm leaned down on his shoulder blade, pinning him down against the floor. “You ain't no amateur. So, tell me.”

The runner hitched a deep breath as Engineer entered him slowly, gliding at his leisure deeper until hips met ass. He ground in a little, leaning hard on Scout's back.

“How many men have had you had inside you before, boy?” He pulled out just as slowly, an aching eternity, ending just before exiting him fully. “How many fellas have _fucked_ _you_?” The Texan snapped his hips, plunging deep into the taller man fiercely.

Scout cried out, straining against his bonds, wriggling on the floor. Beneath him, he could feel his cock rise back to readiness, the husky drawl of the shortest mercenary's words slithering through his guts.  
“Is this what you want?” Another thrust. “To get used like a fuck toy?” Another. “Get us all together and let us plow yer little ass until ya can't walk straight?” Another. “Stretchin' you wide open?” Another. “Belly fulla spunk, come drippin' down yer leg?” Another, and another, and another, drawing wanton moans from the bound runner beneath him.

He could feel prickles at the corners of his eyes. Sensation and arousal, degradation and submission overwhelmed him, his everything going haywire. Scout squirmed against Engineer's hips, his toy to use, his eager ass to fill, his to do with as he pleased. He was right about him. About what he wanted, about what he loved.

“You little slut, you love this don't you? Eight guys all usin' you for a hole.” Leaning back, Engineer grabbed hold of Scout's hips roughly, pounding into him hard, hammering into his ass, groaning softly between dark chuckles. “Say it.”

Scout groaned a garbled string of syllables, panting, unable to construct a coherent thought. His head swam with Engineer's words, replacing any of his own that might still reside in there.

“Couldn't make that out,” Engineer grunted, his breathing growing more ragged, his pace fast and hard. “Say it. What do you want? What do you need?”  
“I need,” the younger man gasped, his teeth fighting the urge to stay clenched. “I need you to fuck me.”  
“I'm doin' that, boy. What do you _need_?”

“I need you to use me.”

“And?”  
“To fill me with come.”

“Yer gonna need to ask nicer than that.”

Scout was practically whimpering, his face pressed against the floor, his wrists aching against the extension cord. Shamed, aroused, he panted, “Please.”

“Attaboy.” It was what he'd been waiting for, biting back, staving off his orgasm until he heard the right words. A gasp and a strained grunt accompanied the climax, Engineer filling Scout just as he'd begged. He sat back on his heels after a moment, and looked back to the next person in line.

Medic nodded, and Engineer left him to it, moving aside for the German to take his place.

Scout looked back as best he could, red-faced, at the handsome doctor lubing himself up. He moaned softly as Medic took a moment to inspect his worn, sore anus, running a slick finger along the outside, smiling wickedly at the slow drip of semen running down his taint.

“Nngh, goin' for a prostate exam, Doc?” Scout chuckled, his voice breathy and strained.  
The doctor smirked, reaching up to snatch the smaller man by the cord still binding his wrists. “I thought I might. It is mein job to keep mein team in peak physical condition.” He carefully undid the knot Engineer had tied in the plastic-shod wiring, and unwound Scout's bonds, tossing the thing aside once the young man's wrists were free. “Und you know how important good prostate health is.” He prepared himself as Scout rubbed his wrists, working the feeling back into them as blood rushed to his fingers.

“Then I guess you better probe me then, huh?” the smaller man replied, looking back to see a grin cross the German's face, a hungry glimmer in his eye.

“You will feel a prick.” Medic laughed quietly to himself as he entered Scout, his chuckles fading into a sigh.

Unable to call the doctor out on his awful joke, the younger man simply relaxed into the fullness of Medic sliding in deep, his eyes fluttering closed as he flopped onto the floor. Slow strokes inside him gave him time to relax and enjoy the ride, the slick slide of the doctor sending warm ripples of bliss through him, where so often before he'd been reduced to whimpering grunts and wanton moans. A slow, comfortable screw was a nice break.

Of course, the German was the eldest member of the team, and as such, probably had less vigor to him than his coworkers. A leisurely, if steady pace was to be expected. Scout let a sigh slide out of him, his brow furrowed but his lips caught in a smile.  
Then he felt fingers circling his wrist, grabbing hold of him and pulling his arm back. The other wrist followed, his arms straight back behind him, held in Medic's grip. It wasn't tight, or forceful, wrapping his whole hands around those wrists, pressing his own into Scout's palms. The younger man grabbed hold, as he assumed he should, and was surprised to find the older man's grip tighten.

Tugging him back, Scout's back arched as he was yanked hard against Medic, slamming their hips together, and the taller man's cock deep into him. He yelped in surprise, again when the doctor let him fall back down then tugged him forcefully back again, spearing him on his manhood.

“Shit, doc,” he whimpered, gritting his teeth and tensing his arms as Medic repeated the motion, snapping his hips into the slap of Scout's ass against him, grunting with the effort, but not relenting.

The slapping was loud and grew surprisingly fast, the runner amazed at the strength the doctor showed but unable to truly appreciate it in the haze of sensation. It was like getting spanked, fucked, and tied up at the same time, and he felt his body tremble. Eyes closed tight, he lost himself in the feel of that cock driving deep, of his shoulders aching as they were tugged hard, of the impact against and into his ass.

Medic's grunts hissed through his teeth, his arms burning as he threw all of his strength into pulling on Scout, his back arched, head lolling back. His pace grew frantic, his tugs uneven and wild as he neared release. Yanking back hard, burying himself to the root with a hard, loud slap, his shrill cry sounded to the ceiling as he went over the edge.

The throb of the doctor inside him, emptying himself into him, made Scout shudder, his hands gripping Medic's wrists tight. When the lights died and the paralysis ended, the older man released his wrists, lowering him carefully to the floor and excusing himself with a pat on the back. His footsteps echoed away, leaving Scout panting on the floor, one arm snaking beneath him to touch himself. Panting faster and faster, Scout puffed against the floor, rocking his hips into his hand, ignoring the sounds behind him, lost in his own need, in the ache of his legs and back, in the soreness of his hole, in the strange, slippery squish inside him every time his pelvic floor clenched, his insides painted by six men. Biting his lip, Scout groaned through his nose, his tired body going stiff as he came in his hand, drops falling to the floor below.

Lights exploded across his vision, the world blurring in an epileptic fit inside his retinas. Sounds grew muffled and returned to him. Dimly, he felt come dripping down his thigh and thought of Engineer.

His unoccupied arm was snatched from the floor, bent at the elbow, and tucked behind his back, the back of his hand pressed against his shoulder blade. The arm beneath him soon followed, tugged away from pumping out the last vestiges of his release, his fingers and palm sticky with his own seed. Held tight against his back, those assaulting hands tilted his arms upward, the simple hold shifting into a double hammer lock, his elbows pinching painfully with the awful leverage.

A rough, gravelly laugh rumbled behind him, heat pressing against his entrance. Strong hands pressed hard on his wrists, shoving his chest to the floor. It was hard to breathe. His arms hurt. And as he was invaded with a long, hard cock, he didn't care about those other things.

“You good, mate?”

“I can take it.”

“Well in that case,” Sniper leaned over Scout, sliding in to the hilt, and sank his teeth into the smaller man's shoulder.

Scout yelped, delicious pain shooting through him. Hot, sharp teeth pressed into his skin. “Hnnnn, shit,” he gasped, wriggling his bottom against the taller man as best he could. His elbows ached, his shoulder burned, and those teeth only bit harder as he struggled. Then Sniper began to move.

Hard, shallow strokes kept the gunman's body over Scout's, his weight pressing down on his trapped arms, his teeth bruising skin and muscle as each thrust shoved the runner into his bite. Sniper's hips did all of the work, rolling out slowly to slam back in, punishing the smaller man. Scout was in a cloud, his second orgasm still ebbing away, fatigue and overtsimulation making his head foggy. The ripples of pleasure through him from Sniper's violation only served to unbalance him further. He was a ship on a stormy sea, standing on the fault-line of an earthquake. His knees were unsteady beneath him, and everything was shaking, shaking. The dim pain in his elbows and shoulder seemed as alien as a lightning strike, completely apart from his consciousness but burning through him with the fury of the heavens.

His panting pleas of, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” fell over his lips unabated and undiminished, a litany of need the younger man whimpered, a ward against losing himself. Above him, that dark laughter gave way to low grunts, breathy and intense. Those teeth left his shoulder, only to nip lightly at his arms, his back, and sink into the side of his neck.

Scout cried out in pain at the hard, vicious bite on his soft skin, the throb of Sniper's orgasm inside him being the only other warning of the older man's climax, hot breath puffing through his nostrils against his ear. His arms were free, his body unmolested suddenly as Sniper let go and crawled away, leaving him bruised and surprised.

Lying in a heap, Scout panted dumbly. Maybe telling them to do what they wanted was a bad idea. Maybe just fuck and go would have been enough. He had to admit, however, letting his teammates manhandle and dominate him, get a little kinky, had its own wonderful appeal. They had used him, and had their way with him. Eight men.

Seven men. Scout realized he had almost lost count as an enormous hand wrapped around his torso, scooping him up under his belly and lifting him enough for another hand to slide under him. Lifted into the air, Heavy smiled at the ragdoll of a man in his arms, pulling him close against his big, warm body.

Heavy was warm, a mountain of muscle shod in soft fat and fluffy, dark hair. He was entirely pleasing to the touch as those strong arms wrapped around him, pressing his face into the thick forest of his chest hair. Scout breathed in the big man's scent, a pleasant array of pheromones with the hint of that awful, coarse soap they were issued for their showers.

“Little Scout looks ready to pass out. Hope you are ready.”

“Savin' the best fer last, big guy.”

That drew a laugh from the giant as he carefully lowered Scout onto his lap, the head of his cock poking his butt cheek once, then his taint, before finally finding its slick, sore mark. He was gentle and slow, putting the smaller man down around him, his eyes rolling closed as he slid inside. He was so slick, stretched and used, and the heat of the young man's body around him was intoxicating.

He was huge. In every sense of the word, Heavy was a large man and Scout found it a small mercy that he'd been opened so thoroughly by the other men before taking him. He was still a difficult fit, however, and the runner found himself shaking, gritting his teeth as he forced his body to relax. When he reached the bottom, seated in the Russian's lap, his hands slid up around Heavy's fuzzy shoulders, grasping at the back of his neck. His face still buried in the big man's broad, furry chest, he could feel his forehead pasting down that fluffy hair with his sweat.

“I am begin.”

“Yeah,” Scout gasped, dimly, grateful for the chance to adjust.

Heavy grasped him by the bottom, lifting and lowering him, slowly at first. It was no small task to take him, and the giant was kind as he began, letting Scout use him to support himself, use him as a lifeline, as he muttered out curses and encouragements.

“Shit, Big Guy, you don't gotta treat me like I'm gonna break.”

“I figure you are tired.”

“Come on.”

“You are sure?”

“Fuck me.”

Suddenly he was horizontal. Scout found himself on his back, Heavy climbing to his knees, falling out of him. He looked up at the big man and smiled weakly. That imposing giant towered over him, his giant hands running along his sides and rolling him over. Back on his belly, the runner was tugged up onto his knees. Without warning, Heavy re-entered him, sliding in deep, pulling him back to meet his thrust. He began in earnest.

Heavy's pace was hard, and relentless, pounding into the smaller man. Once he'd been given the freedom to have his way with Scout how he wanted, he would not be quelled. He'd watched the limber young man take seven men, manhandled and used over and over, always asking for more, always wanting more. He was tired and sore, but he did not wane, hungry for Heavy to fill him just the same. He would happily give him what he needed.

Scout's hands scrabbled at the floor, his elbows wobbling, ready to give out. His insides felt like they didn't exist anymore, no void, no space, simply Heavy penetrating him and filling him and turning his whole body into putty. Those gigantic hands on his hips pulling and pushing while flesh slapped on flesh. His eyes crossed, his mouth hung open. He may have drooled on the floor. He didn't care.

When Heavy came, his roar shook the younger man, rumbling through him like a train. The giant breathed deep, bent over Scout's supine form. Falling slowly back, he pulled out of the exhausted runner, watching as a little bit of come ran out of his well-used entrance. His whole body was quivering, his shoulders and thighs shaking. He fell to his belly, his face pressed against the floor, flushed and sweaty, his eyes unable to focus.

“Little Scout going to be alright?” the giant asked, not moving to help him, but worried all the same. He was in his own haze, and his massive form did not want to move just yet.

A breathy attempt at words gave way to the wet, sloppy sound of Scout sucking in the drool running out of his lips. He heaved himself onto his back, looking up at the ceiling, smiling blissfully. “Yeah, I'm good. Real good.”

“I figured we had put you into a coma, boy,” Engineer called over from the couch, where he sat with Spy lying comfortably across his lap, Sniper curled up against him.

“You think that's all I got?” Scout laughed, weakly wiping the sweat from his brow. “I told you I could take whatever you could gimme.”

“You weren't kiddin,” Demoman observed, flopped over the arm of the couch.

Scout couldn't help but chuckle weakly. He felt so full, eight men having left themselves inside him, eight men having penetrated him, eight men having used him, one after another. He felt so sore, but it was amazing. “So, uh, any chance I can get a hand down to the showers? I don't think my legs work anymore.”

“Work tomorrow is going to be hilarious,” Medic observed, helping Heavy lift the youngest mercenary.

“I can take it.”

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a conversation with your_bro_joe


End file.
